


Nothing except my aching heart

by trailsofpaper (Sanwall)



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:58:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12971238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanwall/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: Dan is an exotic dancer, and Kyle is just the lights and sound guy. He didn't ever stand a chance, did he?





	1. I'm here to see a man

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because of the Bastille cover of Tina Turner's Private Dancer. The working title was *Kill Bill Sirens* but I did not expect Kill Bill (Vol. 1) to play such an essential role in this story. Title and chapter names are pulled from wildly out of context Kill Bill quotes, so there's that.
> 
> I do realize this is the second Dan/Kyle fic I've written in which Kyle realizes he's in love with Dan to Nancy Sinatras Bang Bang My Baby Shot Me Down, but what can I say? It's a jam.
> 
> I know nothing about either being a lights and sound guy, or the exotic dancer industry, but I have the utmost respect for both professions.

The first day of any job was always nerve-wracking, but it wasn’t even like Kyle had ever had a high-stakes job in his life. He was just the lights-and-sound guy, the person who knew which cable to hook to the projector. Just because he had to do the sound and lights at a new place didn’t mean he didn’t know exactly what to do.

On the first day on the job, or more like first night, Kyle showed up in a band t-shirt, faded black jeans and white sneakers, because nobody ever watched the lights-and-sound guy, and anyway, Kyle wasn’t trying to impress anyone. That wasn’t _his_ job. He went in through the front door. There was a man by the coat racks, and he was burly enough that Kyle figured he was the bouncer for the night.

“‘M Kyle,” Kyle said and leaned one hand on the counter. “I’m the new lights and sound guy.”

“Right-o,” said the bouncer in a slow drawl. “I’m Will. Just go on backstage, ask for Woody.”

“Woody?” Kyle said, smiling faintly. “Don’t tell me that’s a stripper name.”

Will gave him a lopsided grin in response, eyes twinkling. “That’d be awful. His last name is Wood,” he said. “I reckon if he had a stripper name it’d be Goldilocks, probably.”

“I’m intrigued, I’ll go find him immediately,” Kyle said with a little wave. “Ta!”

The house lights were still on, the bartenders busy restocking the shelves and wiping down the counters as Kyle passed them. He eyed the stage appraisingly - it was T-shaped, a podium resembling a catwalk  extending out between the round tables. Nothing Kyle hadn’t worked with before. His gaze only snagged on the pole for a brief second. He knocked on the backstage door, but no one answered so he let himself in. The lights were even starker there, an unflattering yellow that did the mustard colored walls no favours.

“Hello?” he called uncertainly, his voice echoing uncomfortably in the bare space. A head stuck out from a curtain, and going by the cascade of golden brown hair framing the robust face, Kyle surmised that this was Woody.

“Kyle, wasn’t it?” the guy said with a South English accent that Kyle instantly found a little endearing.

“Right,” Kyle said. “You’re Woody?”

“Got it in one,” Woody said and emerged entirely from behind the black curtain and extended his hand. Kyle shook it, and Woody smiled. “You’re going to have to sort of learn on the job,” he said. “Most of the performers have a set program they work to, and they tend to switch it up every week, mostly for the regulars.”

“I get that,” Kyle said, and put his hands in his trouser pockets, to surreptitiously wipe his palms.

“Yeah, so you can sort of prepare,” Woody continued and held the black curtain aside for Kyle to duck under. “But you’re going to have to be able to think on your feet, if the performance changes. Switch the lights, time the music, and all that jazz.”

“All that jazz,” Kyle agreed, nodding. He knew how to improvise. He could follow a performance.

Woody showed him the ins and outs of the technology, the small adjustments and specifics for this place, and introduced him to all the nooks and crannies of the stage and backstage that he would have to keep tabs on. Kyle knew he would be able to keep it all straight before long, but he was still relieved that Woody would do this first shift with him, to kind of chaperone his work. He wasn’t used to this level of hand-holding, and he figured it had to be because this place was serious about the performances, as they called it.

“They’re opening the doors now,” Woody said with a glance on the clock that adorned one of the walls backstage. “Time to get comfortable.”

The backstage had filled with people during Kyle’s little tour - and Kyle had _known_ that he’d be working at a male stripper club, it had been a fact that he was aware of, but still it hadn’t prepared him for the reality of being surrounded by toned men in various states of undress, chatting away between them about mundane things, even as one was dressed in a leathery policeman’s uniform.

He was about to follow Woody back out when he turned and collided with someone, his bony arm connecting with a body in a way that had to be painful.

“Sorry!” Kyle called immediately, reaching out a hand to steady and soothe whoever it was that he had inadvertently assailed. It was a man, slightly shorter than Kyle himself but dressed much like him in a black t-shirt and black jeans so old that they had faded to grey. The man looked at Kyle and offered a conciliatory smile.

“That’s alright,” he said and blinked. His eyes were huge and the skin beneath a little bruised, his hair was black and wild, all of it giving Kyle the distinct impression of someone who was very much in need of either sleep or a strong cup of coffee. Possibly both.

“I’m Kyle,” Kyle said, for lack of anything smarter. He wondered if this was another backstage worker, or if perhaps he was a bartender who was about to change into his work clothes. He kind of looked like a nerd, if Kyle was being honest - and the tortoise shell rimmed glasses hanging from the collar of his t-shirt didn’t help matters either.

“I’m Dan,” the man said and pushed his hand through his wild hair, managing to ruffle it further. “You new here?”

“The new sound guy!” Kyle said and smiled brightly. Dan smiled back and crossed his arms.

“That’s a shame. I’d already started to think I’d get to see you out on the stage.”

It was a surprise to realize Dan was flirting with him, sudden and unexpected in this poorly lit backstage area where muscled men were oiling up and making small talk about the weather and sports.

“What, this bony arse?” Kyle said and slapped his own buttocks, because who was he to say no to a cute guy at a strip club anyway. “You should be so lucky!”

Dan smiled wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling, and Kyle could see that he was about to say something, but just then Woody, by the black curtain, called for Kyle to join him. “Coming!” Kyle called back and then said to Dan: “See you!”

“See you,” Dan said after him, and soon Kyle had his hands so full of work that he couldn’t spare another thought for Dan with his soft voice and big eyes.

Kyle had harboured a vague worry about not being able to keep his cool, tracking male strippers for a job. Kyle, who was known to find men incredibly attractive and who tended to fuck up most things in his life. But it turned out to be surprisingly easy to not pay attention to the objective attractiveness of the performer on stage, because Kyle had to concentrate on all the machinery and the corresponding switches on the board. The men themselves barely registered.

That was, until a certain someone with wild hair and big eyes traipsed out on stage, dressed in torn jeans and a red flannel shirt. Kyle almost forgot to swivel the spotlight to follow him, he was so taken aback. No way was Dan, the shy fellow with the ratty t-shirt and tortoise shell glasses, who’d flirted with him, a- an erotic dancer. Kyle’s mind stuttered at the idea.

But Dan put all Kyle’s notions to shame by starting to move to the music. It was a remix of MØ’s _Final Song_ and Kyle felt a laugh bubble up when he realized it was the last performance of the night, but the laughter died in his throat when Dan removed his belt with a flourish and then opened all the buttons of his shirt in one swift move. Kyle was sure he imagined the dark look Dan sent the audio booth, surely he was just fluttering his eyelashes at the audience, where the women hollered and wolf-whistled at him when he turned his back to them and moved his hips as he dragged his hands up his neck and into his hair. He was still holding his belt in one hand.

Kyle had to tear his eyes from Dan moving his back to the beat and raising his hands towards the ceiling, to adjust the bass so it wouldn’t make teeth rattle. When he looked back up, Dan had let his shirt slip off one shoulder in an oddly coquettish move, and Kyle felt his throat go dry as the stage light put the freckles on Dan’s shoulders and back in sharp contrast to his pale skin. The shirt fluttered to the floor and Kyle was absurdly grateful that he was enough of a distance away that he couldn’t make out the details of Dan’s body as he moved across the stage, out on the arm extending into the audience. Kyle saw some people reach out to touch Dan as he went past, he couldn’t help but notice as he moved the spotlight to follow him.

Dan stopped at the edge of the stage and threw the belt across his neck to grab it with both hands, and he bared his throat dramatically. His hair flopped back, and Kyle’s fingers twitched with the urge to comb through it, to see how soft it was, from all the way up in the sound booth. Kyle clenched his fist and reminded himself that Dan had only been polite backstage - it was probably second nature for him to flirt. He was a natural, judging by the way he had the audience completely entranced, eating out of this hand.

Dan squatted down as the remix turned into another, unfamiliar and rockier song, and Kyle couldn’t deny that he was mesmerized by the way Dan reached into the audience, as if to touch them. He was almost shocked when Dan let himself be pulled into it, by the hands gripping his arm and reaching for his trousers - the only piece of clothing he was still wearing. Kyle hadn’t realized before now that Dan was barefoot, had been from the start.

He was swallowed up by the crowd so completely that Woody flicked the spotlight back to the main stage a good while before Dan emerged, gleaming in the light and with a bright smile. The lining of his jeans that hung low on his hips were stuffed with bills, and Kyle had the sudden, unwelcome thought that several pairs of hands must have reached in under the fabric.  _This is a strip club,_ he thought. _Of course there are going to be hands touching the strippers, get it together Simmons._

The attention seemed to only bolster Dan, who sauntered back out on the stage and, when the music gave a sudden dip, he unbuttoned his trousers, to the cheer of the masses. He slid the jeans down torturously slow, and bit by bit strong thighs and a lot of new, pale skin was revealed, but the song was coming to an end, and Woody signaled him to get ready to cut off. It was a blessing to flick the main switch, to turn all the stage lights off at once in lieu of a curtain. Kyle exhaled and leaned back, resisting the urge to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Tough work?” Woody asked and knocked his elbow into Kyle’s arm companionably.

“I’ll get used to it soon enough,” Kyle replied with a tired smile. He didn’t even think he was lying.

* * *

Kyle had to take refuge backstage, because he didn’t much want to go mingle with the patrons getting their coats. He could wait it out, or maybe just find the back door and run away before anyone could see him. It was just his luck that Dan was the first person he ran into, as soon as he stepped in behind the black curtain. He was still breathless and shining with sweat from his performance even if he had his arms full of his previously discarded clothes. He gave Kyle a tight-lipped smile as soon as they locked eyes. Kyle gave an awkward little wave and tried not to look at Dan’s bare feet. The two of them seemed to be the only ones left -  all the other performers had gone out in the audience, to give lap dances. Kyle assumed it was the norm.

“Good job out there,” Kyle said, and then immediately winced inwardly. Great. He was already sounding like a creep.

“Thanks,” Dan said. “It was a great crowd.”

He disappeared into the toilet, and Kyle very pointedly did not look at his silver underwear when he turned his back. Or the swell of his thighs as he moved. Kyle rubbed his forehead with a knuckle and then reflexively smoothed out his moustache, and was halfway between deciding to go back out to find Woody or just risking the front door to get out when the toilet door opened and Dan emerged, fully dressed in his ratty t-shirt and jeans, carrying a modest totebag.

“That was fast,” Kyle said with a little laugh, feeling a little burst of off relief that Dan didn’t seem to be going out to give lap dances in the crowd. Dan shrugged.

“You learn to dress fast in this line of work,” he said, and there was a little spark in his eyes that prompted Kyle to keep the conversation going.

“I bet,” he said. Not the great conversation starter he’d been hoping for. “You must be starving though, after that workout. You want to grab some late night kebab or something?”

A little better. Dan rolled his eyes in dramatic longing. “Fuck, how’d you know I could kill someone for a bit of pita?”

“You have that hungry look about you,” Kyle said, and they fell comfortably into step as they walked out together. “You know, pinched and thin.”

“You’re the one to talk about thin,” Dan said with a laugh that was music to Kyle’s ears. “Jesus, you’re like a literal beanstalk.”

“People do often climb me to fight giants,” Kyle said, nodding solemnly as they passed the wardrobe.

“Not often you hear Jack the Giant Slayer references,” Dan said, and there was still laughter in his voice when they both said good night to Will who stood guard by the door and wandered out into the cool London night. “There’s a place just around here, open until 5 a.m,” Dan added when Kyle hesitated in his step.

Kyle was grateful that Dan showed the way and also ordered the biggest kebab on the menu - it was somehow reassuring that this enthralling strip dancer could scarf down greasy food at a speed rivalling Kyle’s own, seated on a cheap plastic barstool at a nameless kebab joint. He had a hard time reconciling all the contradictory knowledge he had amassed from one night in Dan’s company, but Kyle felt a little zip of excitement at the thought of getting to know more of him in the future.


	2. It's easy to lose your way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not all fun and games, taking your clothes off in front of an audience.

No two nights were ever the same, Kyle pondered. Sometimes the performers used the same programs two weeks in a row, but the audience differed from night to night, and Kyle thought he would never forget the first time someone threw a beer can at the stage. No one was hurt, but Will was furious when he heard about it later, even if people said it happened all the time, and the whole incident left a sour taste in the back of Kyle’s mouth.

There was a Friday night where the place was packed, crowded from wall to wall, and the dark mass of people nearly swallowed the stage up, because it wasn’t raised very high. Kyle had missed last weekend’s shifts, and he felt a little off his focus when Dan came out on stage. Kyle had gotten used it, as used as you could be to a super fit guy being sexy on purpose, but still he smiled a little at Dan’s song choice - Frank Ocean, was this even the right demographic for that? But the crowd was into it as usual, from what he could see. Dan never went for the obvious, sexy party songs, and Kyle appreciated it.

He was focused enough on following Dan’s cues that he didn’t notice when the incident happened. Some kind of ruckus started by the bar, and the worry spread throughout the audience like a ripple, and Kyle sure as hell saw the bottle being thrown. It sailed through the air, into the beam of light he was projecting onto Dan, and it clipped Dan in the temple with a horrible, almost hollow sound.

It didn’t shatter, but Kyle knew for a fact that it hurt more when the bottle didn’t break, and he flinched hard enough that the light slipped off Dan. It gave Dan a chance to get off the stage while the crowd grew wild, and Kyle saw the manager usher some of the other performers back out instead.  _Ugly,_ Kyle thought. It was ugly out there. He had to keep on doing the job though, but his heart heart wasn’t in it and his mind was elsewhere, the palms of his hands sweaty on the dials, the sound of the music a dissonant droning in his ears.

When it was time to put on the strobing dance lights for the rest of the evening, Kyle breathed out through his teeth and hurried out of the booth and down backstage as fast as he could. He found Dan backstage, still wearing nothing but leather pants, with a bag of ice against his temple. He was slumped against the wall, sitting on the bench with his legs sprawled out, his eyes closed and forehead furrowed in pain. He looked so vulnerable, out of the stage lights and without an audience. He was alone, because of course all the other guys wanted to make a few extra quid out in the crowd, and Kyle felt a tendril of hot rage uncurl within him. He tamped down on it and went up to sit by Dan, carefully sliding into place and leaving an inch of space between them.

“You shouldn’t put that right on your skin,” Kyle said. Dan opened his eyes, and they were such a stark blue in the gloomy light of the backstage. Kyle straightened his back and wrangled himself out of his sweatshirt. He was only wearing a flimsy tank top underneath, but if there was a workplace where that didn’t matter in the least, it was this one. He carefully took the damp and slippery bag of ice from Dan’s grip and wrapped the sleeve of his shirt around it, so there was a layer of fabric between it and Dan when Kyle, just as carefully, placed it back against Dan’s temple.

Dan gave a little sigh - if it was from relief or pain, Kyle couldn’t know, but Dan pressed his palm against it to keep it in place, and his fingers brushed Kyle’s as he let go.

“I can’t believe people,” Kyle said and crossed his arms. He had goosebumps even though the backstage wasn’t particularly well ventilated or cold at all, and he resisted the urge to shuffle closer to Dan.

“It happens,” Dan said, but his voice sounded tired and frail.

“Well, it shouldn’t!” Kyle said, curling his fingers until he could feel his nails biting into his biceps. Dan opened his eyes again to glance at him.

“One of the hazards of the job,” he said, and Kyle didn’t like that Dan was trying to comfort _him._ Kyle hadn’t gotten a bottle to the face for doing his job.

“Please don’t,” Kyle said and swallowed. “Please don’t be so flippant about getting hurt.”

Dan put the ice pack down beside him and fixed Kyle with an unreadable gaze. “What else can I be? Me crying about it won’t stop it from happening in the future.”

“I’m not- I’m not saying _cry_ ,” Kyle tried lamely. “I’m just- I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dan was silent for a moment, without turning his eyes away. Kyle though, Kyle looked down in his lap, cheeks burning like he’d said something to be embarrassed about. “I appreciate it,” Dan said quietly. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

Kyle gave a joyless laugh and kicked his feet out without looking back up at him. “Don’t be sorry,” Kyle said. “Just let me pay for the food tonight or summat.”

“Deal,” Dan said, and Kyle thought he could hear a smile in his voice so he finally dared to look up. Dan wasn’t smiling with his mouth as much as Kyle could see it in the way his blue eyes glittered, and he felt a corresponding smile twitch at the corner of his lips.

This time they ended up in a diner that was open 24/7, squeezed into a corner booth with their legs almost, but not quite, tangled beneath the greasy table. Kyle couldn’t help pulling at a rip in the cheap red plastic covering of the couch until the yellow stuffing welled out, but Dan seemed perfectly content waiting for his burger and chips even though the bruising on his temple had spread to his left eyebrow and the area just below his eye.

“Should you get that checked out?” Kyle asked and nodded toward Dan’s face when the silence became unbearable for him.

“I don’t have a concussion, it’s fine,” Dan said, but he said it kindly, like he was taking Kyle’s question under consideration and not just dismissing it out of hand. That was when the waitress arrived with their food - she was clearly bored out her mind, and plonked the plates down as unceremoniously as it was possible, and wafted off with a “Enjoy your meal” thrown over her shoulder like an afterthought.

Dan and Kyle looked at each other in silence for a second before both of them burst out in helpless laughter. It wasn’t that funny, Kyle mused, but something about the late hour and the sharing of an experience made him lie down flat on the sticky surface of the table until the bouts of chuckles had passed and he could look up again, at Dan who was wiping tears from his eyes, carefully.

“So, how’d you end up in this business anyway?” Kyle asked and plucked a soggy chip from the heap on his plate.

“I was wondering when you’d ask that,” Dan said, going straight for the hamburger. “You’ve lasted longer than most.”

“Can’t fault a guy for wanting to know his mate better,” Kyle said, and he sounded too defensive about it to his own ears, and he hurried to stuff the chip into his mouth lest he say something even more stupid. Dan flashed him a quick smile.

“I got into it same as most anyone else. I was short on money, and it seemed a profitable enough gig,” he said before taking a huge bite. Kyle was left to ponder his words as he brushed the salt off his fingers and picked up his burger as well.

“I don’t want to presume,” he said with the burger halfway to his mouth. “But I still think you must have had other career paths in mind when you were growing up.”

Dan laughed, but hid his mouth behind his hand to finish chewing before he answered. “Sure, I mean you didn’t dream of being the lights guy when you were little, right?”

“No,” Kyle admitted and shifted in his seat. “But I helped out on stage productions in middle school, you know. Like, I eased into it.”

Dan nodded like he was conceding a point. “I was studying journalism, if you can believe it,” he said, setting his burger down. “But I actually wanted to make film.”

He must have noticed the face Kyle made, because he hurried to add: “Like, actual proper cinema. Hollywood, you know?”

“You don’t think you could still do that?” Kyle asked, watching as Dan listlessly dipped a chip in some sauce on his plate. He didn’t want Dan to think he judged him for his work, but at the same time he was consumed with wanting to know how Dan - shy and sweet Dan, studying journalism wanting to be a film director- would end up stripping for a wild audience every weekend.

Dan wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he still answered after swallowing the food. “I don’t think I could direct,” he said carefully. “But maybe- I mean I write music almost every day. Like a hobby.”

He glanced up quickly, but it was enough for Kyle to see the little smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and Kyle felt his heart contract. The red bruise was so stark in the overhead light in this diner booth. “I have a lot of free time during the week,” Dan concluded, sitting back in the couch opposite Kyle, almost like he felt they’d been hunched in too close. Kyle responded in kind, straightening up but not letting go of his food.

“Me too,” Kyle said. “I just freelance other gigs though. I don’t, like, do anything creative like you.”

Dan made a dismissive noise and picked up his burger again. He didn’t grab the wrapping properly, so a lot of the filling slid out onto his plate. “Come off it,” Kyle said, and then he had to laugh at Dan’s stricken expression. “Writing music is great. Do you mean like, proper cinematic score, or like songs to be used in films?”

“Both,” Dan said, and Kyle could tell he lit up at the question because he started gesturing, even though he was still holding his food. “Like, it feels like I already write songs that are stories, or the soundtrack to different scenes.”

Kyle nodded and took a bite of his burger before he asked, “Will you let me listen sometime?”

Dan looked at him then, a furrow between his black eyebrows, and there was something vulnerable in his expression that Kyle hadn’t seen when he was next to stark naked in front of hundreds of people.

“Maybe sometime,” Dan said and looked down again, a quick sweep of dark lashes, and Kyle felt a lump in his throat that wasn’t due to the food.

“What’s your favourite film, then?” Kyle asked immediately and Dan replied without hesitation:

“Mulholland Drive.”

“Oh, okay,” Kyle laughed. “David Lynch. I would have pegged you for a Tarantino guy.”

“Really?” Dan said, and he sounded downright delighted. “Let me guess, Pulp Fiction is your favourite.”

“Nuh-uh,” Kyle said. “It’s a toss up between Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill.”

Dan opened his mouth but Kyle held up a finger. “Volume One.”

Dan laughed and Kyle took another bite, smiling around it.


	3. You didn't think it was gonna be that easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is in over his head.

The next night, Dan wore an outfit that glittered in the spotlight every time he moved - he didn’t wear it for long, obviously, but it was Ladies’ Night, and so the entire ensemble of performers had a joint number to Taylor Swift’s _Shake It Off_. Kyle had to stifle a laugh when the trousers turned out to be tearaway, and the lineup of men discarded theirs in a simultaneous flourish to thunderous applause.

Kyle had seen Dan before the show, and the bruise was still showing even though it was mottled and already yellowing in places. Under the stage lights, it was indiscernible under the layer of makeup they wore, and Kyle didn’t know how to feel about it so he very carefully didn’t think about it.

There was a number of solo acts after the main number, but Dan wasn’t among them. Kyle did his job mostly by rote, and he was already daydreaming about the fish n’ chips he was going to suggest to Dan that they go get afterwards when he shut the stage lights and turned on the playlist for the night before he left the booth.

It wasn’t like they had a standing agreement to meet every night after the show, but Kyle had already grown used to it, and it was a little disconcerting to find the backstage room completely empty. Kyle scratched his neck, contemplating his options. He realized he didn’t even have Dan’s number, so shooting him a text was right out - the only option was to go look for him. So Kyle ventured out, into Ladies’ Night among the ladies and strobing lights and thumping music. He was not the only man, not by a long shot, but Kyle still felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. Like a scared animal, he slunk up to the bar to get something to drink, just to feel more at ease. He started to chat with Charlie, a bartender with a terrifying smile at odds with his easygoing nature, with whom Kyle had struck up a tentative friendship. Even though Kyle asked for only a coca-cola, Charlie showed his teeth in a grin and splashed some rum into the glass, free of charge. Kyle toasted him sardonically and took a sip - he barely  noticed the burn of the rum at all.

“You usually scarper as soon as your gig’s over,” Charlie said and leaned on the counter with his arms crossed. Apparently he thought the other bartenders had the business well in hand.

“Yeah, well, figured I might as well get to know this place a little better” Kyle said noncommittally and tried to figure out which song it was that played on the playlist - he’d crafted big parts of it, he knew most of the songs, but this one escaped him.

“You don’t get a good enough show up there in the sound booth?” Charlie said, and there was a joking note to his voice that allowed Kyle to just shrug and grin in response. He took another sip, swivelling around on the barstool, which inadvertently gave him a one-eighty panorama of the venue, the women out on the dance floor, clustered around the performers, or seated in the lounges with their friends. The music was a twangy, country-sounding thing that tickled Kyle’s brain - it was on the edge of his tongue, he _knew_ he knew it, if he could just place it. That was when his gaze snagged on Dan - Kyle thought he would recognize the lines of his back anywhere at this point.

The song changed - it was still the same, but there was a Latin influence that threw Kyle off, a dip where it turned instrumental and steadily building tension. Dan was in someone’s lap, shirtless and in his torn jeans, and Kyle noticed the torn jeans because Dan’s thighs were bracketing another person’s lap and he noticed Dan’s lack of shirt because there was a pair of hands trailing up and down his spine _and how fucking long was this damn song?_

Kyle stood up so abruptly he spilled some of his rum and coke. Charlie didn’t notice - another patron had demanded his attention, and Kyle had his back turned to him anyway. Dan also stood up, dragging the- the person up with him, half-turning to grind on - him. Kyle’s thoughts ground to an almost painful halt as the instrumental interlude came to an end and a whining male voice started singing, gasping about _please_ and _babe_ and Kyle hadn’t realized that Dan would entertain male customers, and even if he _did_ , that didn’t necessarily _mean_ anything.

The man dragged his hands up Dan’s back and neck and buried them in his wild hair, and they swayed with the music, and Dan put his chin on the man’s shoulder, like they were slow-dancing, and he was smiling, and that was the moment Dan’s eyes flicked up to meet Kyle’s. It was like a jolt directly to Kyle’s sternum. Dan’s eyes were dark and his smile dimmed, and Kyle tore his gaze away immediately.

 _Oh_ lord, _please don’t let me be misunderstood,_ the man sang over the speakers, and Kyle stumbled back, into another person and he probably spilled a lot more of his rum and coke before he managed to put it down and shoulder his way through the throng and out into the cold night air.

“Tell Dan,” Kyle said to Will, standing his usual guard with his arms crossed outside the door. Will blinked at him, slow and measured as always. Kyle swallowed. “If Dan asks, tell him I had to go do a thing."

“Do a thing,” Will repeated, obviously amused by Kyle’s frazzled state.

“Fuck off, I have to do a thing,” Kyle said and tried to pull his jacket close before he realized he was only wearing a t-shirt. He just pulled ineffectively at his t-shirt and started walking away. As he turned his nose toward home, he refused to think about Dan’s huge eyes lined with laughter as Kyle suggested midnight sushi. He especially refused to think about Dan with his chin on another man’s shoulder.

Kyle had a life outside the club - he had a good life outside that work. He had work outside that work, and although he tried to throw himself into it, hang out with his friends, go to see that movie he’d been thinking of seeing. But during it all, there was an annoying baseline thought of _wonder if Dan would like this_ . _What if Dan was here. Dan would- Dan, Dan, Dan._ Like there was ever going to be a universe where Kyle was even near to being in his league.

When Kyle got home that night, he got into the shower and it was almost an afterthought, to take himself in hand and jack off in the hot spray of water. He’d forgotten to remove his rings, but the pull of metal against skin felt like something he deserved. Kyle closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the damp tile  of the shower wall and tried desperately to not think about Dan’s thighs bracketing thighs, and he bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood when he came.

Fuck Dan, honestly. Kyle just had to fucking get over himself.

* * *

Kyle called in a day off the following Friday, making Woody cover for him. But Woody couldn’t make it on Saturday, so Kyle had to go back in. And in he went, freshly showered in a new tank top and with a good, sturdy flannel overshirt - just an extra layer of protection. It was nonsensical of course, but it did make him feel better. He was also armed with a steely resolve to not look at Dan more than strictly necessary. A workplace infatuation was bad enough, but Kyle really didn’t want to add something like workplace sexual harassment to the list of embarrassing things he’d gotten fired for.

He wasn’t planning on coming onto Dan or anything but he felt wrong looking at him. It was clear Kyle couldn’t keep his thoughts under lock and key when he did. Then, of course, Dan came walking out on stage in a full three piece suit, cream white with a matching bow tie and bowler hat precariously tilted on his slicked back hair, to the crooning sound of Nancy Sinatra’s _Bang Bang My Baby Shot Me Down._

Kyle felt his throat click when he swallowed. He’d known about the soundtrack; he’d read the notes and the directions for it - he hadn’t known about Dan’s outfit. Dan bowed at the instrumental music and used the pole in the middle of the stage to dip his entire body forward. It wasn’t a remix of the song, it was the original - which was so stripped down, Kyle was too aware of his own body, the sound of his breathing. Where was a reverberating bass thump when you needed it?

_I was five and he was six_

_We rode on horses made of sticks_

Dan twirled around the pole and flipped his hat off in one smooth move. The crowd murmured, restless.

_He wore black and I wore white_

The audience gasped as Dan jumped and hooked his leg around the pole to spin around again.

_He would always win the fight_

Kyle’s fingers were trembling on the dials as he readied himself to switch the colour scheme as the song hit the chorus.

_Bang bang_

As the light turned bright red, Dan turned upside down, leg still around the pole, dramatically stretching out his hands so his suit jacket fell down in a heap to reveal naked arms and a tearaway collar around his throat.

_He shot me down_

Dan followed his jacket, sliding down to put his hands on the stage and pushing his legs away from the pole in a gracefully controlled arc.

_Bang bang_

Dan landed on his feet and Kyle felt a drop of sweat find its way under the collar of his shirt.

 _I hit the ground_.

To the sound of gasps, Dan dipped down flat on his stomach and lifted himself up on his arms, providing a delightful view of his behind in snugly tailored trousers.

_Bang bang, that awful sound_

He turned around on his back and lifted himself up on his elbows, throwing his head back and bending his knee. Kyle wanted to look away, but he couldn’t.

_Bang bang, my baby shot me down_

Dan turned again, to lie on his side, arching his back and kicking off his shoes as he went. Kyle dutifully switched the light back to white.

_Seasons came and changed the time_

When Dan stood up, it was with a fluid motion that Kyle’s brain couldn’t quite comprehend. His hands itched with the urge to touch, to explore up close. He pressed his palms flat on the control board.

_When I grew up, I called him mine_

Dan hunched his shoulders, like he was hurting, and Kyle felt his own muscles tense in response. No one had thrown anything, had they? Was Dan okay?

_He would always laugh and say: "Remember when we used to play?"_

It had to be a part of the routine - Dan stretched his arms down behind him and the white vest slid down them in a sensual movement of fluttering silk that left the audience breathless. Kyle felt breathless.

_Bang bang, I shot you down_

Again, Dan gripped the pole with his arms and one leg, like he needed it for support, arching his back like he was in pain. Kyle turned the light red again and clenched his fists, willing his mind to focus only on his job.

_Bang bang, you hit the ground_

Sliding down the pole, Dan’s trousers seemed to catch, and when they tore off to reveal black lace, the audience cheered and whistled. Kyle wanted to look away but found that he couldn’t.

_Bang bang, that awful sound_

How could a two minute forty second song be so torturously long? Kyle watched with his mouth as dry as a desert while Dan pulled himself up on the pole, stretching his legs out in a v-formation.

_Bang bang, I used to shoot you down_

He wrapped his naked legs around the pole to let go with his hands, and Kyle felt his heart lodge in his throat when Dan was pressed flat, upside down, against the pole. Kyle nearly forgot to switch the light this time.

_Music played and people sang. Just for me the church bells rang_

With a flourish, Dan dropped down, right side up, on the floor. Kyle didn’t know how a person could move like that and he finally, finally averted his eyes

_Now he's gone, I don't know why. And 'till this day, sometimes I cry_

_He didn't even say goodbye. He didn't take the time to lie_

_Bang bang_

Kyle flipped the light back to red and he had to look up to check that it had worked, that the timing was right.

_He shot me down_

Dan wasn’t even wearing the tearaway collar anymore. He was arched on the floor only in black lace pants, and really, it wasn’t fair, the way the red light highlighted the curves of his body, the way the sweat made him shine.

_Bang bang, I hit the ground_

Dan hit the ground, sensually curving his entire body in time to the music.

_Bang bang, that awful sound_

Rising up, Dan hooked his fingers in the black lace rim of his pants, and Kyle clench his jaw. If he had been the praying type, he would have been muttering incoherently to a higher deity, but as it was, he had to swallow thickly around the rushing of blood in his ears.

_Bang bang_

The lace tore as Dan ripped, and Kyle fumbled on the switch, desperate to time it right-

_My baby shot me down_

The stage went dark, but not before Kyle had seen the perfect swell of Dan’s naked arse, and Kyle was never going to recover; he just wanted to disappear and drown in the deafening noise of the crowd screaming its approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Kyle can't recognize is Santa Esmeralda's version of Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, as heard on the Kill Bill Vol. 1 soundtrack.


	4. I want him to know what I know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kyle is in over his head but so, it seems, is Dan.

Kyle remained in the sound booth, ostensibly checking the settings and adding to the playlist and going through notes for next week’s shows on the laptop - there weren’t any notes for next week yet, but Kyle still scrolled through the shared document, up and down until his eyes watered. He’d been there long enough that surely, if Dan wasn’t out in the crowd (giving lapdances to other men) he’d gone home already. Kyle cursed the club for not having a back door exit, and he pressed himself against the wall as he stumbled past the patrons of the place, towards the door and he was out on the street, already thinking he’d gotten away scot free when a soft voice called his name.

All Kyle’s hard work of suppressing how Dan made him feel was undone by a timid smile from him where he was leaning towards the brick wall of the building, arms crossed over the tacky animal print of his t-shirt.

“Hi,” Kyle said, exhaling in defeat and pushing his hand through his hair. God, but he was a sweaty mess.

“I didn’t see you after- last week,” Dan said, and his eyes flickered down for a moment. The rush of traffic and the noise of passers-by talking melted into a vague sonic backdrop as Kyle moved forwards, closer to Dan. He was still wearing his contacts, and he had a washed-out totebag by his feet - Kyle supposed it contained a change of clothes, but the suit had to be hanging in the club’s backstage wardrobe. That suit. “I saw you by the bar,” Dan said. His voice was gentle, like he was trying to not scare Kyle away and Kyle gave a snort. It was directed at himself, but Dan looked taken aback, and so Kyle hurried to say:

“Yeah, I just - I had to get out.”

Dan looked down again, moving his hands from the folds of his elbows to rub at his arms. “So you’re fine with the stage show, but when I get handsy with a man, it weirds you out.”

“What, no,” Kyle said and hurried to take off his unbuttoned flannel shirt, even though it caught around his wristwatch.

“It’s okay, I get it,” Dan said, but when Kyle draped the flannel shirt over his shoulders, he finally looked up. There was surprise in his huge eyes and something wary in the line of his mouth as he looked at Kyle.

“I don’t think you understand why it weirds me out,” Kyle said quietly. Dan pulled at the fabric of the flannel hesitantly, almost reverently. Kyle swallowed, his throat dry and his palms the opposite. He put his hands in his pockets and said, “I kind of want to kiss you.”

Dan opened his mouth, but no words came out and Kyle had to look down, or just, away. The toes of his sneakers were scuffed and dirty, but that was where he trained his eyes.

“Just kiss?” Dan said, at last. His voice was light, but Kyle thought he could hear a tremor beneath the words, and he clenched his hands into fists in his pockets.

“I want to take you out on proper dates,” he said, unable to look up. “Like, more than just a hotdog at fuck o’clock at night.”

Dan said nothing, and Kyle had to look up at that, because he had no idea how his words would land. The open shock on Dan’s face was a surprise. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, with Kyle’s shirt tugged closed by his throat.

“I mean I get it if you- if you’re not into guys, like that,” Kyle forced out. “If it’s just-”

“No,” Dan interrupted and he even reached out a hand, like he wanted to put it on Kyle’s shoulder. It stayed in the air between them though, and Kyle’s gaze caught on it, the vulnerable arch and tremble of his fingers. “No,” Dan repeated. “I’m very much into guys like- like that. It’s just that... I haven’t had great success, with dating, with this job.”

Their eyes met again, and the night air seemed charged, the taste of electricity prominent on Kyle’s tongue. “I just care about you,” Kyle said, and the words left his mouth like an exhalation - just hanging between them for a moment.

Dan surged against him so forcefully that Kyle had to pull his hands from his pockets, cage him in and steady him with a grip on his elbow and on his hip as they met in a kiss. He was still clutching the shirt with one hand, but the other was on Kyle’s neck, a thumb on his cheek, and they were kissing. Dan’s lips were cool and insistent on his, and Kyle’s mouth fell helplessly open beneath them. The kiss dissolved into several smaller kisses, an uncoordinated press of lips against lips, like they were both searching for the right way to slant their faces against each other. The night air was cooling down the sweat on Kyle’s back, the thin fabric of his tank top doing very little to shield him, but he wouldn’t have moved for the world.

They both started when the door to the club opened and two women came spilling out of it, laughing and talking and accompanied by a gust of thumping music and the neon of strobing lights. Neither of them paid Dan and Kyle any notice though, and Kyle’s grip tightened on Dan’s hip. Dan broke off the kiss and pulled Kyle’s head down a little to rest their foreheads against each other, and they just breathed together in for a moment.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” Dan mumbled. Kyle slid his hand up from Dan’s elbow to stroke his cheek.

“I’ve got a flat,” Kyle mumbled, and Dan let out a soft chuckle. He looked up, into Kyle’s eyes, and this close the blue of his irises seemed otherworldly.

* * *

Kyle couldn’t remember what state he had left his flat in, and opened the door slowly, like he could somehow mitigate the disaster if he delayed their entrance. But his cramped foyer was as full of shoes and it always was, and his living room was a bomb site of discarded clothes and his kitchen sink was overflowing with dirty dishes - and none of it mattered, because as soon as the door closed behind them, Dan pinned Kyle to the wall with his hands pressed to his shoulders and kissed him again. Kyle didn’t even get the chance to turn the lights on.

This time, when Kyle opened his mouth, Dan pushed his tongue in between his teeth, and Kyle moaned, immediately and unreservedly. Dan stilled against him, but Kyle finally had him in his hands, so he pulled off the flannel shirt and pushed his fingers in under Dan’s t-shirt. Dan gasped into Kyle’s mouth and turned his head away to whisper, “You’re cold.”

“Sorry,” Kyle said and slid his hands down, to rest over Dan’s trouser pockets instead.

“It’s okay, I can warm you up,” Dan murmured into Kyle’s cheek, lips on his beard, but the words sent an icy tendril down Kyle’s spine. He leaned back far enough that Dan had to straighten up and look up at him.

“We don’t have to,” Kyle said. “I meant what I said about dates.”

Dan’s face was lit by the street lamp outside Kyle’s living room window. His expression was inscrutable, but his eyebrows were drawn together in -confusion?

“Kyle,” Dan said, and his voice was husky enough that Kyle’s knees buckled a little. They were staring at each other, and Kyle wanted nothing more than to slide his hands back under Dan’s t-shirt.

“Yeah?” Kyle said and had to clear his throat. Dan dug his fingers into Kyle’s shoulder and he said:

“I want to fuck you so bad, I don’t understand how I can make it any clearer to you than I already have.”

“You-” Kyle had to stop and inhale sharply when Dan reached down and grabbed him by the belt, demandingly. “What?” he managed to get out, while Dan deftly undid his belt and fly.

“You told me,” Dan said and stood up on his toes to pull Kyle’s earlobe between his teeth in a quick, sharp tug before he let go. “You said that Kill Bill Volume One was your favourite film. I stripped naked to _Bang Bang My Baby Shot Me Down._ How obvious do I have to be?”

Kyle tried to laugh, but it was hard to concentrate when Dan already had his hand on his half-hard cock over his trousers, and he leaned his head back against the wall to try to keep his composure. “I didn’t, ah. You didn’t have to do that to make me want this,” he tried, and he felt Dan smile against his neck as he undid the belt.

“Fuck, Kyle,” Dan said when he slid his hand into Kyle’s trousers.

“I have a bed, it’s right there,” Kyle panted and pushed at Dan.

He ended up walking Dan backwards into his bedroom, both of them waddling awkwardly because Dan refused to remove his hand. They were both giggling uncontrollably by the time Dan fell head first down on Kyle’s unmade bed, and Kyle fell on top of him, bracketing Dan’s hips with his knees.

“You’ve seen me naked,” Dan said, looking up at Kyle in the dusk of his room. “Can you please take off your clothes for me?”

Kyle looked down, and he felt a rush of embarrassment - here was Dan, gorgeous professional dancer who took off his clothes for living, looking at Kyle like he was- like he was something attractive. But Kyle figured he owed Dan at least that, so he sat up and grabbed the hem of his tank top and pulled it over his head. Dan bit his lower lip and put his hands on Kyle’s chest, before letting them slide down to his sternum and then back up again. The drag of his warm palms against Kyle’s skin was heavenly, and Kyle wanted more.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen someone who doesn’t wax,” Dan said conversationally, and pulled at the curly  hair around Kyle’s left nipple. Kyle yelped and hunched down. “Oh, sorry,” Dan chuckled, but Kyle just  kissed him and ground his hips down. For some reason it was a surprise to Kyle that Dan was hard in his trousers too, and Kyle decided he had to go with it while it lasted, so he slid down the length of Dan’s body to ruck up his t-shirt and get his fly open.

“Kyle,” Dan said with a questioning note to his voice and pushed up on his elbows, when Kyle unceremoniously shoved his trousers and pants down. Not a trace of black lace, and Kyle was glad - he didn’t want any distractions.

“I just want to,” Kyle said, and put his mouth on Dan’s beautifully curved cock. He heard Dan give a gasp above him, but Kyle just savoured the feeling of velvet heat on his tongue, the musky taste of Dan at the back of his throat, and set to work. He circled the base of Dan’s cock with his fingers, but loosely, because he was still wearing his rings.

The sound of Dan biting back moans and breaking off keening noises in the back of his throat was music to Kyle’s ears. He shifted so he could pull Dan’s trousers all the way off, and then he shifted again to heft Dan’s knee up on his shoulder - just to get better acces, to be able to get all of Dan into his mouth. Dan’s hand shot down to clutch at Kyle’s hair - he exerted no pressure, but Kyle bucked his head up, trying to communicate that he would welcome it. When Dan tightened his grip enough to pull, Kyle moaned around his cock. There were tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, and he only wanted more.

“Kyle, I’m going to,” Dan gasped and pushed at Kyle’s forehead with the heel of his hand, but Kyle just bowed his head and when Dan came, he swallowed all of it down.

He finally slid off with a wet pop and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of Dan’s softening cock before he allowed himself to be dragged back up. Kyle’s lips were sore, and he had probably given Dan a beard burn, but Dan didn’t seem to care about either because he pulled Kyle in for a filthy kiss, like he was chasing his own taste on Kyle’s tongue.

“That,” Dan said, when they had to part for breathing, “was not how I was planning for it to go.”

“Oh yeah?” Kyle said, completely out of breath but unable to keep from smiling. “What were you planning on?”

“For starters, that we’d both be naked,” Dan huffed and pushed Kyle off enough to be able to slip out of his t-shirt. Kyle chuckled and squirmed around until he’d managed to shuck off his own trousers, wincing as his pants dragged against his fully erect cock.

“Okay, I’m naked,” Kyle said, crawling  back on top of Dan, aided by Dan pulling eagerly at his shoulder. “What now?”

Dan shoved  at Kyle’s shoulders, but Kyle steadfastly refused to budge. “I didn’t _actually_  plan anything,” Dan said at last, his black eyelashes fanning his cheeks when he looked down. “I didn’t think you’d ever want to-”

Kyle groaned and buried his head against Dan’s shoulder. When he wasn’t looking at him, it was easier to talk. “Damn it, Dan, you’re the fittest person I ever saw, and even if you weren’t-” Kyle felt Dan place his hands on his back, gently stroking up and down. “You’re just beautiful,” Kyle murmured and pressed a kiss to Dan’s throat, but at the same time he couldn’t help but push his hips down, grind against Dan to get some friction.

“You’re the one to talk,” Dan muttered and reached down and between them to get a hand on Kyle - really, properly, skin on skin contact, and Kyle thought he would die from the sensation.

“Quit talking rubbish,” Kyle breathed into Dan’s shoulder, and then bit down when Dan started to stroke him, languidly. Like he was testing it out.

“I’m not,” Dan protested, and his other hand slid up Kyle’s back, a pleasant drag of pressure, and came up to rest against his scalp. Dan’s hand in his hair and Dan’s hand on his cock - it was too good, and Kyle arched his body in a desperate attempt to keep on top of things. “You have no idea what you look like,” Dan said, and he sounded a little breathless, like he was pushing the air out of his own lungs. “I’ve never wanted anyone to touch me as much as I’ve wanted you to.”

Kyle pushed up on his hands too look at Dan, and he could see nothing but complete earnestness in his angular face, shrouded in shadow though it was. There was a lock of hair falling across his eyes, and even though his breath threatened to catch in his throat, Kyle pushed it aside with trembling fingers. Dan’s mouth twitched into a smile. Kyle couldn’t bear to look at him for long, the way his cheeks were flushed with orgasm, his pupils blown wide and mouth slightly open, so he leaned down to kiss Dan again. Kyle delved in deep with his tongue, and Dan seemed to welcome it, craning his neck and tightening his grip in Kyle’s hair.

The intensity of Kyle’s own orgasm surprised him, a cresting wave of sensation that made him choke out a gasp that was almost a sob. Dan didn’t let up, using Kyle’s own come to ease the slide, until Kyle slumped down on top of him and asked him to stop.

Dan wiped his hand on Kyle’s sheets, and gently pushed at his shoulder to get him to roll off.

“You’re heavy,” Dan whispered, but there was no actual complaint in his voice, so Kyle just rolled off and sprawled out on his back, breathing heavily. He blinked his eyes open to Dan leaning over him, chin on his own hand, elbow planted beside Kyle’s shoulder as he traced a pattern on Kyle’s chest with his other hand. It tickled a little, but not enough for it to truly itch, so Kyle only watched the mesmerising movement of Dan’s fingers across his skin, their breathing the only sound in the room. Kyle blinked, and realized that the room had brightened by degrees so that he could now discern the blue of Dan’s eyes when he looked back to his face. Dan seemed to notice the same thing because he laid his hand flat to Kyle’s chest and said:

“I think the sun’s coming up.”

Kyle craned his neck, looking past the wild tuft of Dan’s hair at the window. You couldn’t see the sun as much as you could see the dawning light reflected in the windows in the building opposite, and Kyle felt strange. He hadn’t ever spent the night with someone like this, just never falling asleep. He didn’t even feel tired.

“What do we do now?” Dan asked, hiding his face by putting his chin on Kyle’s breastbone. Kyle thought that there might be more to the question, but he answered it as straightforward as he could.

“I’m going to put on some tea, and then I’m going to put on Kill Bill Volume 2 and I want to watch it with you.”

There was a quiet moment when neither of them moved, and then Dan lifted his head to look at Kyle. Kyle thought that the light in Dan’s eyes would beat any sunrise, and he reached up to kiss him again.


End file.
